


invitation

by Alcazar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Older Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcazar/pseuds/Alcazar
Summary: This is about a younger woman (reader) going over to an older woman's house and ~stuff going from there, but really I don't do a lot of character description so you could probably read it as whatever F/F you want. This is something I wrote for myself about someone specific. It's not supposed to be realistic. I've only made minor edits (like the name of the woman).





	

She texted you asking you to come over sometime because she’d like to see more of you. You figured you knew what that meant and accepted the invitation, with all its implications.

When you knocked at the door of her house, she opened it nearly immediately. She drew you in to kiss your cheek, her hands slipping just low enough on your back to be suggestive. It was after dinnertime. She suggested that you open a bottle of wine.

She seated you on the couch, then fetched two glasses and a bottle of red. You held your glass as she poured. Some of it spilled onto your lightly colored shirt and if you didn’t know better you’d have thought it was intentional.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I’ll throw it in the wash right now so it doesn’t stain.” And in a heartbeat she’d whisked the glass out of your hand and slipped her fingers under the hem of your shirt. You’re so taken aback that you comply, raising your arms above your head. In an instead she’d gone from the room, leaving you in just your pants and bra. You drink deeply from the wine, now feeling that you’ll need it. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you sit alone.

Anticipation and uncertainty make you painfully aware of the time. The cool, but not unpleasantly cold, air of the room holds your attention on all of the skin you’re showing and makes you shiver. You wonder if she’s keeping you waiting on purpose- for how long does it really take to start the wash?- knowing that the anticipation is mounting in your stomach and between your legs... but you banish the thought.

Finally she returns. She apologizes again but stares unabashedly at your now exposed torso, her eyes lingering especially on your breasts. You fight the urge to cross you arms. You leave yourself completely vulnerable to her gaze.

“If you come upstairs I can find a shirt for you,” she says finally. You stand and she slips a hand around your bare waist to lead you upstairs. You wonder why she’s bothering to dress you at all. Perhaps out of courtesy, but she doesn’t seem too concerned with that. More likely she just enjoys undressing you.

Once in her room she releases you and begins rummaging through drawers, occasionally pausing to drink in your half-naked form again. Finally she seems to have found something.

“Raise your arms,” she commands. And you obey, now more vulnerable to her roaming gaze than ever. She walks so that she is behind you and slips some fabric onto you. No sooner has it covered you than her hands do as well, smoothing some imaginary creases on your breasts. Amazingly it fits well. She offers no explanation as to why she has something far too small for her.

“There,” she says, spinning you to face her. She fusses with your hair momentarily, then smooths the fabric over your breasts and stomach once more. “That should do.” You feel electrified.

“Shall we go back downstairs?” she says.

“Why bother?” Your words surprise you. But much as you enjoy this odd foreplay, you’re ready for her to strip you down and bring the liquid fire bubbling in you to a head.

She grins toothily at you in response and shuts the bedroom door. Her adult children aren’t coming here tonight, so that’s as much tantalizing foreplay as anything else. Then she walks to you and kisses you on the mouth, her tongue instantly parting your lips, her hands gliding down you back to stroke and cup your backside. Her pawing is thorough in its exploration. Eventually she undoes your jeans and they hit the floor. You step out of them and she holds your waist firmly as she forces her tongue deeper in your throat, causing you to bend back under her strength. When she relents a littler her hand under your shirt, rubbing your stomach gently.

She pulls your waist against hers, cupping your butt again with one hand and slipping the other inside your bra. Then both hands yank the shirt she’s just put on you off again and cast it aside. Now she runs her fingers over the cleavage that peeks out of your bra. Then she seizes your waist again and traces the path of her fingers with her tongue. She goes slowly, using the whole surface of her tongue and covering some areas multiple times. The wetness across your breasts almost stings in the cool bedroom air.

“Bed,” she pants, and you’re relieved that the level of arousal is taxing for her too. You follow her to the bed. “On your back.” She gestures and you obey, laying on the bed in your bra and underwear, again powerless beneath her prowling gaze. She stands at the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of you, her eyes roaming up and down, catching every detail and committing it to memory. The feeling of exposure is difficult but thrilling. Finally you can’t take the anticipation. “Please,” you say.

She smirks. “I don’t always get such pretty young ladies in my bed. Let me savor it.”

“Evelyn, please.”

She sighs dramatically but you can tell she was itching to get her hands on you again. She lays beside you on the bed and kisses along your sternum between your breasts, down your stomach, licking and sucking and biting the sensitive area around your belly button. You’re almost crying with pleasure and say her name louder and louder. She unhooks your bra, throws it aside, and takes your breasts into her hands, caressing them gently as she speaks to you. “Ask me to fuck you,” she says. You try to buck against her, get some friction between your legs, but she’s careful to make sure you can’t.

“Evelyn,” you gasp.

“Go on.”

“I...fuck me.”

“What was that?”

“Please fuck me, Evelyn.”

At that she takes a nipple into her mouth, sucking zealously as she takes her time toying with the waistband of your underwear. The other nipple gets the same treatment as her fingers slip beneath the cloth at your crotch. But she withdraws her hand before it gets too far.

“I want to see you first.”

She pulls off your underwear and cups your bare crotch, amused by how you move under her. She releases you to cover the insides of your thighs with kisses and sucking nips.


End file.
